Once back in her sitting room she sat down heavily in the cushioned chair. Her own sword was in the other one where she had left it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Margery asked her.
The thoughts were hovering around the edge of consciousness, trying to push their way in. “I don’t think I can.”
“Well I need to,” the grief in her sister’s voice shocked her. Margery had always been so much in control. She had been the one others came to talk with when they needed it. Now she was the one who needed someone and Katelyn had failed to notice. Of course, she was not in the most observing frame of mind. Margery stood there, trying to hold back the tears.
Katelyn stood, put Coran’s sword carefully by her own, and hugged her sister. They held each other for a long time. They cried, sharing their sorrow.
Katelyn spent the rest of the day and the following night in her rooms alone. Alys came by briefly, but seemed to understand that she needed some time to herself.
That night was the longest she had ever known. Sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes she saw his face. It wasn’t grief alone that kept her up. There was a feeling that gnawed at her, that grew throughout that endless night. The only comparison she had was Coran’s explanation of trusting his gut, knowing what was right. Her gut told her that she would know if anything happened to him. She wouldn’t need to be told. She would just know, and what she knew was that she had no sense of him being gone. That part of him that she carried within her was still there. She was sure that he was still out there somewhere. She had her doubts of course. It was convenient that her gut told her what her heart wanted to hear, and her head had its say as well. It told her a body and a sword left little doubt of his fate.
When light crept through the curtains to announce a new day, the feeling in her gut was still there. She would mourn quietly, but at the same time she would hold to the near-certainty of his well-being. Whether she was right or not it would give her the strength to get out of bed and face the world for another day. She dressed in expectation of another inspection. One had been scheduled, but her father might have postponed it. She hesitated in putting on her sword and stared at the larger one lying next to it. The doubts crept back in and she had to push them away again. She clung to her gut feeling and belted her sword in place.
She went in search of her father to inform him of her intention to perform the inspection. One of the woman who worked in the royal wing told her that the High King was not in his rooms and hadn’t been seen this morning. Katelyn decided to try his study. He had probably been up all night. He had been tired enough lately from worry, if he added guilt on top of that it would do him no good.
She encountered Commander Martin coming from the study and decided to talk with her father later. The young commander stopped when he saw her. Martin joined the Knights of Soros at eighteen. He once said that he never wanted to do anything else. His skill and intelligence had quickly earned him respect among his peers. When the last Commander retired from age, Martin was voted into the position by the other Knights. They always decided such matters themselves, excepting only that the King had to give his blessing.
“Your Highness,” Martin said carefully. He had been in the room when she fainted.
“Commander. Are your men ready for their inspection?”
Martin glanced back at the closed door of the study. “His majesty just informed me he would try to take care of it himself, this afternoon.”
“I will save him the trouble. If you are ready that is?”
“Now?” She nodded and he paused. “They are due a surprise inspection,” he mused, a smile came to his lips. “I will have your horse saddled and await you in the yard.” “Since I have nothing better to do right now I will see my own horse saddled,” she told him.
That inspection did not go as well for the pride of Summerhall. As soon as Martin had ridden into the compound, he had called out the Knights for an immediate inspection. Once assembled, Katelyn rode up and down the ranks. A few had their clothing slightly askew in their haste to assemble. They earned themselves a slight frown. One had armor obviously dull and scratched in one spot. He got a deeper frown and she noticed beads of sweat appear on his forehead. After they were dismissed she caught some departing comments.
“Tough one she is.”
“...wears a sword.”
“Knows how to use it I hear.”
“...believe that when I see it.”
“Don’t mind them,” Martin said from beside her, “it’s just talk. Some remember a willful little princess. Others see a strong young woman, a dangerous young woman. Then there are those who can’t see anything beyond a pretty face.”
“And which one are you?” she asked in a serious tone as she turned Arya in preparation for the return ride to the palace.
“The first two,” he replied, and it sounded like the truth. “As for a pretty face, I haven’t been blinded yet.”
Katelyn smiled more for his benefit than any sense of amusement. “Do you think you ever will?”
“Who can say what fate has in store for me?”
Who can say what fate has in store for anyone. The morning inspection helped keep her mind occupied. What was she going to use now? She knew she had to keep busy or risk being consumed by the dilemma of what she felt versus what she knew.
Martin escorted her as he had the day before. “Your Highness, I wonder if you have any plans of sparring in the near future.”
“Why do you ask?”
He took a moment to answer. “I think some of the men would be interested in witnessing your skill first hand.”
In other words they wanted to know if she really had given their commander a challenge. The novelty of the situation was not lost on her. A young woman who could fight as well as lead. It was intriguing, especially to men who might end up fighting for real very soon. It could be inspiring, which was good for moral. “One hour after noon,” she told him.
He ducked his head in thanks for her understanding. “I will be there.”
Captain Treska climbed the steps of the white stone structure located not far from Summerhall’s southern harbor. His curly hair and beard were touched by gray, and they framed a face weathered by the winds of the sea. The building housed eight families comfortably. There were four apartments on a floor and two floors. He rapped his knuckles on the first door on the right of the open ended hall. Stairs at the back led up to the next level. Voices and a commotion could be heard through the door and Treska couldn’t help but smile at the familiar sounds of home. The door opened and a short, slightly plump, blonde woman stood there in surprise.
“You are back!” She hugged him quickly and moved out of the way so he could come inside. “Children! Your father is home!”
Two boys ran up to him and tugged at his legs. The youngest was six and the older lad was ten with curly hair like his father. “Did you bring us anything?” they asked in unison.
Treska dug out some sweets from his pocket. The boys grabbed them and began arguing over who had how much.
“You shouldn’t spoil them so,” his wife said, not unkindly, and he shrugged.
A pretty girl, with light brown hair came out of the kitchen wearing a white apron tied around her brown dress. She came over and gave her father a hug with more dignity than her younger siblings. Krista was fourteen and at that age where boys were starting to take notice of her. He reminded himself to have a talk with his wife to see if any young men have been bothering her. He couldn’t be ignoring his fatherly duties.
“It is good to see you all,” he told his family.
“Come, sit,” Trina, his wife, called from the dining table. They went and sat around the plain, light wood table, as she brought him a glass of wine. A platter was filled with dark slices of meat, and a bowl contained peas. Another plate held bread, baked that morning.
He took a sip of the wine and sighed, “It is good to be home.”
“I hope you will be stayin
g longer than last time,” his wife reproached him. He had to look down at the glass abashed. “Again?” She knew what the look meant.
“Last one,” he stated quickly in his defense. “I made a great deal for a shipment of silk. With trade the way it is, silk will fetch a high price.”
“Silk?” she mused. “All right, but after that?”
“I do not think I will be going out again until things are resolved.” He said it with a worried frown.
“Will it be bad?” she asked.
He glanced at his children who were listening intently. “We can discuss it later. Now, what news have I missed while I’ve been away?”
“Did you hear about what happened in Westland?” Krista spoke up quickly.
“If you mean about the Princess Katelyn, yes. I heard the rumors in Sol Tara.”
“Our daughter seems to find the story fascinating,” her mother informed him.
“It’s romantic,” she protested.
Treska rolled his eyes. “If you say so.” He glanced at his wife and winked.
“Father!” Krista rebuked him.
He stopped and looked at his wife’s eyes more closely. He was reminded of the man he had seen in Crecy. For some reason he pondered over that from time to time. There was something about the eyes. “That’s it!” he said suddenly and his family jumped. “Sorry.”
“What is it?” Trina questioned.
He told her about the Anagassi he had seen. “It was his eyes. I didn’t realize it until now.”
“Realize what?”
“He was not a Karand.”
Bethesda looked up from the ledger she was going over when she heard the front door open. She found it difficult continuing the business with Miko gone. Her son had not returned yet either and he would have been a great help. The other children were doing their best, but Oran had more experience.
Her eldest son seemed incapable of haggling with clients, which meant he would never be very good at factoring the goods they traded in, but he made up for it with a common sense attitude and good business sense. In that he tended to follow after his mother.
“You have been asking around for information?” the man who entered and approached the counter was too thin and had oily black hair and dark skin.
“Do you have some?” she replied evenly. Someone had already been in, making up stories and asking for money. She wasn’t fooled by it.
“Maybe.”
She gritted her teeth. She was not the negotiator her husband had been, and everyone wanted to haggle. “Tell me something useful and I will decide what it is worth.”
The man shrugged his bony shoulders. “Two men took passage on the ship I work on. They got off at Crecy.”
She put a silver coin on the counter top. “What did they look like?”
“One was short and heavy. He wore a hood that hid his face, but I could see that he was a Karand.”
“And the other?” she pressed. It was worthless unless he knew about them both.
“Tall. Never saw his face. He kept it covered all the time.”
“Could you tell by his speech if he was a Midian?”
“Midian? No he didn’t talk, but he wasn’t a Midian.”
The hope that had risen briefly in her sank back down. The shorter one could have been Miko. But he would have no reason to be on a ship if the Midian wasn't with him. “Are you sure?”
The man nodded. “He was an Anagassi.”
Anagassi? She almost laughed, but refused to give anything away to this man. She placed a gold piece on the counter. “Thank you, you may go now.” He grabbed the coins and left. After the door closed behind him, she allowed herself to laugh.
Only her Miko would think of that. The consequences if caught made it something not to even think about. No one else would have dared imitate one of the Anagassi. Only her Miko.
Naras held out the message case to the creature that stood before him. He wished the thing would not look at him like he was something to eat. The beasts were stupid, but followed orders. The thing took the case in one clawed hand. It grunted a few times before its wings unfolded from behind its back and started to beat at the air. It lifted upward into the night. Naras turned away and looked at the moonlight reflecting off the water of the river, and the city of Summerhall beyond.
Chapter 18
Sun Day
The terrain was more familiar with its low hills overlaid by green trees and tall grass though some of the grass was turning brown from the heat. Otherwise, it was similar to some of the hills that bordered the Sun Plain. As they neared the small town, Coran pulled his hood lower to hide his face while wishing he was among those hills right now. The cloth that had covered his face lay limply down from his head. Supplies were running low and hunting would take too long so they had to risk the town. They still traveled by night most of the time to reduce the chance of encountering the curious. Even with the horses it was taking longer than planned. They couldn’t trust the road for long so they had to travel overland.
The houses were a mix of wood, stone and some bricks. It looked like the inhabitants had used whatever was most available at the time. They picked this town because it was small enough not to have any walls or guards of its own, and also because it was along a major road, so strangers would not be unusual. Hopefully.
Miko led them to a store front where a sign said that goods could be bought inside. As expected no one took much notice of them just like the last town. Coran dismounted, and took a quick look around. They had chosen to come in early so only a few people were about, dressed in not much more than rags. He felt sorry for the people, but he couldn’t change it. Not now. If he was successful in obtaining the information he was sent for, then maybe someday things would improve here.
He followed Miko into the store. Counters held a variety of goods. There were packs and lanterns, packages of food and canteens. Along the walls hung swords, riding gear, and some cloaks. All of the items were old; swords were rusty, and packs beaten by use. He hoped the food was at least edible. Miko bargained with the old man who ran the place and they left with several packages of dried fruit, some meal, and a couple bottles of local brew. Miko called the last necessities.
As Coran started placing packages in the saddle bags, he noticed people gathered across the way. There were three horses. On one was a woman with dark, gray streaked hair tied up in a bun. She wore a long, dark, flowing robe over her shoulders. The other rider made Coran glad his own robe was closed. By the dress he was an Anagassi. A real one. He did not wear an atiefa himself and his red sash was prevalent.
A woman with her hands bound together stood behind one of the horses. A rope connected her to the saddle’s pommel. He scowled at seeing anyone treated such a way. She was tall, dark and dirty. A few bruises showed on her gaunt face. Despite her circumstances there was a defiant look in her eyes. He felt his rage build.
Two other men stood talking nearby. He strained to hear. One was of average height and weight. The other was older and leaned on a broom. He must have owned the building where they stood.
“...sure you don’t want to sell?” the one with the broom asked with an accent slightly different from Miko’s. Before learning some of the proper idioms of Karandi speech Coran would not have been able to tell the difference.
“No, my friend. She will bring a premium in Lornth,” the fat one responded in the same accent.
“Has she been used?” There was no reason to explain what he meant by that.
“No. My sister there makes sure of that.” He pointed to the older woman on the horse.
“No wonder you’re asking so much.” The old man spit into the dirt of the road.
“Sorry friend, but we have to be going.” The fat one mounted on the remaining horse. “Maybe next time I will have something more in your price range.” He waved as they rode away at a walk so the woman could keep up.
Coran mounted quickly. Miko was watching him carefully as he mounted as well. He waited u
ntil they were under the cover of the trees before speaking.
“I saw that look in your father’s eyes once,” Miko started carefully. “There was a woman bound as a slave then too. I have only one question for you.”
Coran nodded for him to go ahead and ask. Nothing was going to change his mind.
“Can you deal with a real Anagassi?”
Not the rebuke he had expected. “Let me ask you something,” Coran countered. “Why are you helping?”
Miko smiled thinly. “That woman that your father saw is now my wife.”
Coran would have to get the whole story when there was time. “I can take him. I have to,” he replied, determined to succeed. He could not leave a woman like that. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
“Let us pick up the pace a bit and find a suitable place ahead of them to wait,” Miko suggested and flicked the reins.
They rode at a quick walk around trees and rocks exposed from the earth. After a time they closed the distance between them and the road. They saw the group they sought a half mile back, just rounding a bend in the road. They went ahead a little further before reining in on the dirt-packed highway.
They talked about how to handle the situation. Miko made some suggestions and Coran listened. The man had far more experience than him in dealing with Karands. They dismounted along the side of the road to wait. Coran switched the curved blade he picked up back at the water hole for the broadsword he was more comfortable with. Since Miko indicated that what he wore really wouldn’t matter as long as he wasn’t seen as a Midian, he took off the brown robe. It would only encumber him if it came to a fight.
Miko did not give them much of a chance for success. He said the Anagassi were very good at what they did. Despite that he was still willing to help. When Coran asked again why the trader replied; ‘My wife will forgive me if I get myself killed.’
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